Disclaimer: This story is based on characters created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
AN:
Thanks for your reviews!
In this chappie, you can skip the whole explanation about types of magic, dark and light spells, and types of wizards. It's for Tom and Harry's 'enlightenment', to get over their first introduction to those concepts in one big swoop.
It's very similar to what I wrote in Black Heir and Vindico Atrum, I'm changing nothing here, because these issues don't play such an important part in this fic.
So it will be very boring and tedious to those of you who have read those fics. I recommend you skip that part – you'll realize what part it is the moment you start reading it.
This chapter isn't too thrilling, but it had to be covered. The important thing is the new people that the boys meet, because they will much influence their lives and the plot too, to some extent.
More serious and plot-advancing parts will come in the next chapter, I think.
That said, I hope you enjoy this nonetheless, and let me know your opinions!
NEW POLL: In Twist of Fate, in which House do you want Harry Riddle to be sorted?
Part I: Chapter 12
Tom and Harry were making their way through King's Cross station, towing their weightless trunks, with Lord Horkos' cage dangling from one of Tom's hands and with Mr. Hutchins and Alice whispering to each other behind them.
Tom pulled out once more, from his pocket, the train ticket that they had found inside their letters. And he scowled at the glowing golden letters that simply read: 'Hogwarts Express. Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. 11 o'clock.'
He had thought nothing of it the first time he had seen it, since he had never been in a train station before. But now, as they passed by platform two and started to cross platform three, it was evident to him that the platforms' numeral system didn't include fractions.
Mr. Dumbledore hadn't said anything about this. Evidently, it had slipped the man's mind, and Tom was now glaring down at his ticket. All the while, his stupid little brother didn't seem to have realized their predicament, yet. Harry was merely glancing back at Alice and Robert, a concerned expression on his face.
"D'you know what they're arguing about?" worriedly whispered Harry to him, as they started crossing platform four.
Tom glanced at him, deadpanned, but nevertheless replied in a flat, indifferent tone of voice, "Mr. Hutchins wants to enlist in the Army and Alice is trying to convince him not to." His lips curled in disdain. "She wants to get married and he wants to wait."
Harry gawked at him. "How do you know that?"
"Because I listen and I observe," said Tom shortly.
"Because you eavesdrop and you spy, you mean," quipped Harry, and then a beaming smile of pure joy spread on his face. "So they're getting married!"
Tom shot him a scathing sneer. "No, you twerp. Hutchins is going to the Army and he'll get killed in the war, no doubt. And if we're lucky, Alice will be so distraught that she'll end up killing herself."
"What-?" Harry gasped out in bewilderment, to then darkly glower at him. "Alice isn't going to off herself! And Bob isn't going to die – what are you talking about – war? There isn't any war!"
Tom glanced at him with utter contempt. "If you read the newspapers, you'd know-"
"I might not read the newspapers," snapped Harry hotly. "But I hear things, don't I? All the grown ups are talking about it, and Alice is always tuning the radio to the newscast." He shot him a hard look, as he added with utter conviction, "And no one thinks there's going to be a war."
"No one thinks so because they're all half-brained imbeciles like yourself," bit out Tom snidely. "The Germans already got the Rhineland and Austria, and have now occupied the Sudetenland - the rest of Czechoslovakia will be next, obviously," he added nonchalantly. "There will be war soon. Only idiots still think that there could be peace."
And with that, he quickened his pace, leaving Harry a little bit behind as he started to glance at the signs of the platforms once again.
The moment Harry caught up to him, Tom felt too vexed and irritated to further try to convince his brother of something he knew was inevitable. Instead, he decided to close the subject with something that had been troubling him for some time.
"They want to adopt us after they get married," hissed out Tom accusingly as if it was the most heinous of crimes, the moment that Harry was about to open his mouth.
Harry snapped his mouth shut, his eyes grew as wide as moons, and then he breathed out, "They do?"
He was utterly surprised at first and then felt a surge of exhilarated happiness, as he started to envision what his and Tom's lives would be like – finally having a home of their own, with Alice and Bob as their parents, happily loving each other and them...
Harry shot the two quarreling adults behind him a look of pure love and gratefulness.
He couldn't overhear their whispered conversation, but Alice's tones now sounded imploring and frantic, while Mr. Hutchins wore a gentle and patient expression on his face, though there was a look of fierce determination in his eyes – the man didn't look as if he would be yielding to Alice's pleads any time soon.
"Don't look so gleeful," snapped Tom, shooting him an angered glare. "I wouldn't agree to it and I wouldn't let you either. We don't need parents," he spat, with a foul-mood expression on his face. Then he let out a nonchalant scoff. "Besides, it won't come to happen. Hutchins will die-"
"Don't say that!" bit out Harry furiously, snapping his head around to glower at him, though he couldn't help feeling a constriction of fear and worry in his chest, something lodging in his throat.
Tom merely snorted, and then abruptly halted under a platform sign with the number eight on it.
He spun around to face the two adults, who were startled out of their conversation when Tom intoned, "The train bound for Edinburgh is over there. Harry and I can manage from here. Thank you for accompanying us!"
Alice blinked at him, and then gazed over Tom's head, slightly frowning. "Where is it? I don't see it-"
"Over there," cut in Tom, vaguely gesturing with his hand at some point in the distance.
When Alice's frown deepened and when she opened her mouth again, Tom suddenly dropped the handle of his trunk, pushed his owl cage into Harry's arms, and then swiftly hugged Alice around the middle.
"I'll miss you!" exclaimed Tom in a warm, loving tone of voice, as Alice gaped down at him.
She looked startled and incredulous for a moment, but then she flushed with pleasure and tightly returned the embrace, as she murmured softly, her eyes looking a bit teary, "You'll be much missed too, Tom."
Harry merely gawked at his brother's unexpected actions. Tom did the same with Mr. Hutchins, who patted Tom on the head with fond affection.
"But we'll come along," began Alice, as she once more perused with her gaze the row of platforms, "and help you load your trunks into the train-"
"Alice, they don't want us there," interrupted Robert, glancing at them with a knowing look. "They are big boys now, and they don't want others to see them with two adults as if they were little children who needed guidance."
Tom stared at him for a moment, and then quickly nodded his head, shooting him a grateful look.
"Oh," let out Alice, looking a bit hurt and disappointed.
Robert merely smiled at them in understanding, and Tom then covertly shot Harry such an impatient and irritated glance that Harry sprung to his feet, still clueless about what was going on but nevertheless realizing what his brother wanted him to do. Thus, he hugged Alice and Robert as well, exchanging their farewells.
"Write to me everyday, if you can. I want to know all about it. And if you don't like it there, say the word and I'll come and fetch you!" said Alice, looking at them with worry and concern, before Robert gently took a hold of her and started to lead her away.
"What-?" began Harry the moment they were alone, but Tom didn't give him the chance to say more.
The taller boy grasped Lord Horkos' cage from the floor where Harry had left it and then grabbed his trunk's handle, as he snapped, "Hurry up, we don't have much time left."
Nonplussed, Harry followed him with trunk in tow. Though Tom halted a moment later, standing between two platforms, staring up at their signs.
Frowning, Harry dropped his trunk and at last plucked out his train ticket from his pocket. He blinked when he took notice, for the first time, of the Hogwarts Express' platform number.
"Er…" he mumbled, as he peered up at the sign that showed the number nine. He took two steps to the right and stared up at the sign of the other platform: '10', it displayed.
"Where is it?" he blurted out, scandalized.
"That's the question, isn't it?" quipped Tom coolly, with a frown on his face.
Harry shot him a bewildered glance. His gaze then snapped to a side, catching sight of the enormous clock perched high up near the ceiling, at the other side of the station. It was about to strike eleven o'clock.
"We only have five minutes left!" gasped out Harry in alarm.
"I know – shut up! Let me think," snapped Tom crossly, then he started muttering under his breath, "It has to be something logical… nine and three-quarters…"
"The platform must be hidden from muggles," blabbered Harry anxiously, in an urgent tone of voice. "Like Diagon Alley. It must be concealed by magic-"
"Yes, that much is obvious," bit out Tom with vexed annoyance.
Seeing that his brother was just standing there, frowning and apparently trying to solve the riddle that was the location of their platform, Harry started to glance at the people coming and going from the two platforms, in an attempt to catch someone who was weirdly dressed – someone who looked like a wizard or witch. But he saw none.
"How many arches are there between the platforms?" abruptly demanded Tom, skewering him with a glance.
"What-?"
"Go – run! Count them!" commanded Tom briskly.
Harry blinked at him, but then quickly left his trunk behind and dashed through the crowd, nevertheless feeling quite miffed at Tom's tone of voice, which the boy frequently used with him, as if Harry was his pet puppy, who had to be good and obey or else.
Regardless, given the urgency of their situation, Harry did as he was told, and a few moments later he came back, panting for breath as he gasped out, "There're eight!"
Tom solemnly nodded. "Then it must be the sixth – six is three-quarters of eight."
Harry stared at him, finally realizing what Tom had figured out, if his brother was indeed right. And he didn't waste a single second in following Tom as the boy made his way towards the end of platform nine.
Counting them in their minds, they both finally halted before the sixth arch, which stood between the two platforms like a brick-wall column supporting the station's roof.
"So you think that's the entrance to the platform?" muttered Harry, inspecting it a bit warily. "How do we cross it, d'you suppose?"
Tom frowned, took a step forward and slowly pushed his hand against the bricks. Nothing happened, and Tom scowled.
Harry then decided to try for himself, though unlike his brother, he did it in a reckless manner because, really, they didn't have the time to do things cautiously and primly, like Tom had just done.
Thus, he threw a punch at the bricks, suppressing the instinct of closing his eyes against the oncoming pain. However, in the next moment, he blinked when his fist went through, and he stared at his wrist, which stuck out from the arch, while he felt the unseen part of his hand tingling.
With a gasp, Harry quickly withdrew his hand, gazing at it to make sure it was whole and unharmed. It was, thankfully.
"I see," muttered Tom. "So that's how it is." Then he shot a glance at him and said sharply, "You go first. It has to be quick, apparently - make a run for it."
Harry threw him a withering glare. "Right, I go first, because if something bad happens it will be my hide and not yours."
He then let out a huff but nevertheless complied, because spending time bickering with his prat of a brother would surely make them miss the train. And they had no idea how to get to Hogwarts if they did – they didn't even know where the school was, exactly.
Harry took several steps backwards, grasped his trunk, and then pelted forwards, tightly clenching his eyes shut as he made a straight run towards the arch.
The next second, he felt his body tingling and prickling unpleasantly, and then he smashed against something – someone, he realized, the moment he opened his eyes and found himself at the beginning of a platform.
There were lots of wizards and witches waving at a shinny scarlet train and at the children that were leaning out from windows, waving back – on a train that was puffing out smoke and already moving and leaving, he saw with alarm.
Harry then snapped his gaze up at the man he had careened into, and said urgently, "My brother is coming through – please move to a side!"
However, the man didn't comply. He was a wizard by the looks of him, tall, imposing, and broad-shouldered, with a cravat around his neck with a pearl pin, dressed in velvety black robes lined with soft, grey fur at the lapels, with a familiar-looking, blood red flower pinned in the middle of his chest. He had long, golden blonde hair peppered with grey tied at the back of his neck, and held a cane in his right hand, which had the silver head of a snake with a small crest displaying an ornate 'M'.
The wizard was staring down at him with a repulsed and enraged expression on his face, the man's blue eyes narrowing with contempt and hatred as he gazed at Harry's clothes.
"Mudblood," the man spat viciously, to then abruptly swing his cane forcefully at Harry's head.
Utterly taken aback by the startling and unprovoked attack, Harry ducked and managed to dodge the blow, as he yelled frantically, "What are you doing!"
The wizard snarled like a vicious beast, flinging his cane at Harry once more – and Harry just knew that if it struck him, he would be laying on the ground with a cracked skull.
Just then, Tom appeared with Lord Horkos and trunk in tow, unharmed, since thankfully, the deranged wizard had moved as he continued to attack Harry.
As Harry avoided another strike, he yelled frenziedly at his brother who was standing there with his mouth slightly parted open, blinking at the scene, "He's howling mad! I did nothing to him, I swear!"
"Filthy mudbloods!" hissed out the demented wizard, his cane up in the air ready for another volley, though this time it seemed that he would make Tom his target as well.
"What's going on there!" someone bellowed, and Harry saw that they had started to attract much attention, since a group of parents, wizards and witches, were making their way towards them.
Apparently, Tom and Harry had the same idea right then, because they grasped the opportunity and simply started running, fleeing from the loony.
Panting for breath, they made a mad dash – Harry could only see a few carriages still accessible from the platform, since most of the train was already outside, its speed increasing with every passing second.
Harry moved his short, skinny legs as fast as he could, though Tom was ahead of him, since the boy's taller height and thus longer limbs gave him an advantage.
Finally, Tom threw his trunk and owl's cage into the entrance of the last carriage. A second later, he had helpfully taken Harry's trunk and done the same, to then leap into the carriage himself, grasping a side-handle as he outstretched an arm.
"Grab my hand!" shouted Tom above the loud noise of the train's steam engine and speeding, rumbling wheels, a look akin to panic on his face as he gazed at his brother who was still madly running, trying to catch up.
With a last spur of energy, Harry jumped from the very end of the platform, for a second airborne and thus a bit worried as he flailed his limbs in mid-air, before Tom's hand shot out and grasped him by the wrist, yanking him into safety.
Harry smacked into his brother with the force of the pull, and they both tumbled down to the carriage's floor, gasping for breath.
"That was wicked!" wheezed out Harry, sprawled on top of Tom, a wide, exhilarated grin on his face.
"If you think that, then I should've let you smash into the train-tracks!" groused out Tom acerbically, shooting him a glare. "Get off, you idiot, your puny elbows are digging into my ribcage!"
Harry jumped to his feet and grasped his eyeglasses, which were precariously dangling from his left ear. He had nearly lost them.
He stuck them into place, pushing them up his nose, and then shot his brother a beaming smile. "You saved me."
Tom merely grunted at that, as he picked himself up from the floor and started to straighten out his clothes. He shot his brother a glance, as he frowned and murmured, "What do you think the nutter meant – by calling us 'mudbloods'?"
"I haven't the foggiest." Harry shrugged his shoulders. "It wasn't anything nice, though."
Tom frowned once more, but then simply commanded, "Let's find a compartment."
Taking hold of their trunks, and Lord Horkos' cage too in Tom's case, they started down the corridor of the carriage, seeing that all the children had already comfortably settled themselves. They didn't find a single compartment with spare space for them, and thus crossed to the next wagon.
Mid-way through it, Harry halted when he caught sight of Alphard Black and his cousin Orion, with a couple of other boys and plenty of extra room. Alphard paled when he saw Harry through the compartment's window, and even quickly shook his head at him, looking aghast.
Harry frowned, wondering what was wrong with his friend, and simply opened the door and stepped inside as he exclaimed enthusiastically, "Hullo - I hoped I would find you!"
To his perplexity, Alphard cringed and quickly glanced away from him, saying nothing.
"Who are these, Black?" said a smooth, low voice.
Harry snapped his head to a side and then halted in astonishment when he saw the boy who had spoken.
He didn't think he had ever seen someone like him before. The boy seemed to be as tall as Tom, with chin-length platinum hair and the strangest yet most beautiful eyes he had ever seen; they weren't light grey or pale blue – no, they were purely silver.
The boy was extremely good-looking, but not prettily beautiful in a feminine way like girls could be, but with the kind of unique handsomeness in a boy that made people look twice and then stare, gobsmacked.
Harry even caught sight of a signet ring on one of the boy's fingers, with a crest that looked exactly like the one on the deranged wizard's cane. He felt a bit of trepidation at that: perhaps they were related, and the wizard had been bonkers, so perhaps the boy was too.
Nevertheless, Harry couldn't stop staring. He felt weirdly dazed as he kept gazing at the boy without being able to peel his eyes away.
"He's no one, Abraxas," then said Alphard quickly, still without looking at Harry, his face pale.
Harry huffed angrily at that, shooting his friend a scowl – though evidently the boy wasn't his friend anymore, because Alphard was fixedly staring out the window as if he wanted nothing more than to disappear.
"I'm Harry Riddle," said Harry firmly, sticking out a hand as he jerked his chin towards Tom, who was standing behind his shoulder. "And he's my twin, Tom."
The boy – Abraxas, apparently– narrowed his eyes at them, his gaze trailing over their worn clothes. "Riddle… Riddle…." His silvery eyes then narrowed to slits, as if he had suddenly figured something out, and he hissed under his breath, "You're mudbloods."
"What's that supposed to mean?" snapped Harry, pulling his hand back and feeling irked beyond measure. That was twice that they were called that, as if it was the most grievous and horrid of insults and some ghastly, shameful fault of theirs.
"If you don't even know," said Abraxas in a low, sharp voice, his face pinched with disgust and anger, "then it further proves you're mudbloods." Then he leveled at them a glare of utter scorn and revulsion, and bit out forcefully, "Get out! Your kind isn't welcomed here."
"You're under the impression that you can order us around?" came a cool voice behind Harry. "Or force us to do as you wish?"
Harry glanced over his shoulder to see Tom skewering Abraxas with a narrowed-eyed gaze, his face with a chilling and hard expression on it.
"Oh, I can force you, alright," said Abraxas poignantly as he pulled out a wand from his robes' pocket.
"You can't use magic outside Hogwarts," pointed out Tom scathingly, shooting him a mocking, snide look.
"True," retorted Abraxas tersely, "but I don't need it." The next moment he shot a glance to the boy seated next to him, and snapped commandingly, "Avery!"
A hulking boy rose to his feet, his small, beady eyes glinting with a hungry, mean look of anticipation in them, as he fisted his meaty hands and menacingly cracked his knuckles.
"Touch us," hissed out Tom in a very low, quiet tone of voice, that made his words sound all the more scary and intimidating, "and I'll make you rue the day you were born."
His brother made no attempt to whip out his wand and cast whatever spells he had learned from Hogwarts' textbooks, if any were useful in such situation. Evidently, he didn't want to do anything that could possibly lead to his expulsion from magic school.
Moreover, Harry knew that Tom wouldn't resort to a physical attack with his fists, because his brother scorned such things. And honestly, his brother truly didn't know how to fight.
However, Harry was well aware that his brother didn't need his wand or fists to hurt people. The day in which Tom had made Dennis Bishop scream and writhe on the ground was still fresh in his mind. Furthermore, he had no idea if what Tom could do was magic that could be somehow detected. Tom was evidently betting that it wouldn't, and thus wouldn't lead to any negative consequences for him.
Nevertheless, Harry didn't want to find out.
"Drop it – it isn't worth it," he whispered as he grabbed Tom by his forearm. "Let's just leave."
Tom didn't pay him attention, he still had his blue-eyed gaze fixed on the Avery boy, gauging and challengingly. He almost looked feverishly giddy, as if he would relish the chance to do to the boy what he had done to Dennis – expression that alarmed Harry even further.
"Tom!" snapped Harry then, giving him a small shove towards the door. "We're leaving!"
He didn't give his brother the opportunity to refuse or protest, he kept shoving him until they were out of the compartment with their trunks in tow and with Lord Horkos shrieking at the rough handling of his cage.
Though, Harry did shoot Abraxas and his friends a scowl over his shoulder.
A boy on the corridor nearly crashed into them the moment they stepped outside, just as the compartment's door was slammed shut at their backs and the shade of its window was yanked down.
The ginger-haired boy glanced at them and then at the compartment's door, his lips twisting as he said wryly, "Malfoy and his cronies kicked you out?"
Harry blinked up at him. The boy was a few inches taller than him, though he was lanky instead of stout, with bright red hair and weird eyes; one was hazelnut brown, the other sky blue.
"Yeah," mumbled Harry, "we were looking somewhere to settle-"
"Oh!" The boy's expression brightened, and he shot them a warm, friendly smile. "My sister and I have a compartment all to ourselves. You're welcome to come, if you want."
"Sure!" piped in Harry, beaming a wide grin at him. "Thanks!"
"No problem," said the boy shrugging his shoulders, as he started down the corridor. "I'm Felix Prewett, by the way. And you are?"
Harry made their introductions, since Tom was merely following them in silence. No doubt, his brother was still angry and resentful after the 'disrespectful' way in which he had been treated by Abraxas and the others, surely brooding and planning what he would do in retaliation.
So Harry merely left his brother to his dark plots and merry thoughts of carnage and revenge.
"You're twins?" exclaimed Felix at the news. "My sister and I are too! We'll all be good friends, then, I'm sure." He shot Harry a wink. "We twins have to stick together, eh?"
Harry grinned at him, already liking the boy very much, since even though Felix was wearing robes that looked posh and expensive to his eyes, the boy was clearly the kind of friendly, unpretentious, and carefree sort.
When they stepped inside the compartment, Harry saw a girl with a book in her hands.
The moment she raised her head and glanced at them, Harry's eyes widened slightly and he felt a bit flustered.
She was Felix's twin, no doubt, but her features were more delicate, and her mismatched eyes made her look even more beautifully exotic and compelling. Not to mention that she also had ginger hair; long, cascading down in pretty ringlets, which made Harry want to touch them to see if they were as soft as they looked.
Abruptly, he felt Tom's gaze boring holes into him, and Harry quickly suppressed the urge, wary that his brother would openly mock him.
He had discovered he had a strange fascination for girls with red-hair, and Tom knew this well.
A year ago, a seventeen-year-old girl had stayed at the orphanage for a few weeks. The only parent she had had, her mother, had died and her relatives couldn't immediately pick her up. So the girl had stayed at St. Jerome's before her uncle from Manchester, or some such place, came to get her.
Harry didn't remember her name and not even her face. But he remembered how he had dazedly gazed at her, surreptitiously following her around the orphanage, simply wanting to see more of her – of her hair, more precisely. It had been long and prettily curly, too.
Back then, Tom had instantly noticed Harry's strange fascination, of course, and he hadn't stopped mocking and taunting him with anger and disdain, because according to him, Harry had trailed after the girl like a pathetic, love-sick puppy.
So now, Harry quickly ripped his gaze away from this girl before Tom could say anything, and he busied himself with stuffing their trunks under the seats.
"Felicity," said Felix as he helped out Harry, "these are Harry and Tom Riddle – they're twins!"
The pretty girl shot them an interested look at that, warmly smiling at them.
Doing the utmost to not see her, Harry finally flopped down on a seat, while Tom did the same after placing Lord Horkos in the privileged spot by the window. The beastly owl was apparently satisfied with the honor conferred to him, because he soon stopped angrily hooting and shrieking and settled down to gaze at the passing scenery.
However, once seated across from the Prewett twins, it was impossible not to meet the girl's gaze.
"Your eyes are pretty," suddenly blurted out Harry, in the next second blanching when he realized what had come out of his mouth, feeling utterly mortified.
Tom let out a snort of contempt, the girl's cheeks went pink, and Felix let out a peal of laughter, to then wriggle his eyebrows at Harry, as he intoned with vast amusement, "Think my sister is pretty, do you? She has loads of boys trailing after her, so you'll have competition!" Then he shot a smirk at his twin. "You've snared another one!"
"Oh, hush you!" Felicity snapped, slapping her brother upside the head. Then she turned to stare at Harry, leaning forward a bit as she peered at him. "You have pretty eyes too. They're green, are they not?" She flushed, as she added in a soft murmur, "They're lovely."
Harry felt his cheeks heating up and the tips of his ears turning red, he stammered something or other, and then decided to simply shut his mouth and sit still. He even saw Tom glowering at him and then glancing at the girl with masked dislike.
"Break it off, you love birds," piped in Felix, toothily grinning at them. "You'll have plenty of time to continue this budding romance at Hogwarts, so there's no rush."
His sister threw him a vexed look, but the boy forestalled any reprimand by shooting her a pointed glance, as he said in a low tone of voice, "I found them coming out from Abraxas Malfoy's compartment, you know."
"What did Abraxas do?" asked Felicity instantly, a frown on her face.
Before Felix could reply, Harry noticed the use of the boy's first name, and already having recovered from his chagrin, he said cautiously, "He's a friend of yours?"
Felicity huffed, snapping her book shut on her lap. "We were childhood friends - good friends, at that. With him, Neron Lestrange, the Blacks, and their sort."
"What changed?" inquired Tom softly, and Harry shot him a glance and saw the greedy glint in his eyes.
Then he understood his brother's sweet tone of voice. Of course Tom wanted to know as much as possible regarding his new 'rival'; the boy had the firm conviction that information was vital in order to swiftly and successfully take down an enemy.
"They changed, we changed," murmured Felicity. "Our families did, that is." She then shared a glance with her twin, trading some kind of silent conversation.
Felix adamantly shook his head, but a look of determination crossed Felicity's pretty features, and she said firmly to her twin, "They should know. It affects them, doesn't it?" Then she glanced at Tom and Harry and asked quietly, "You're muggleborns, aren't you? Given your clothes, you seem to be…"
She trailed off, looking a bit uncomfortable and then waiting for their reply.
"Muggleborns?" Tom stared at her intently. "What does that mean? Does it have something to do with the term 'mudblood'?"
Felicity went rigid, anger flickering in her mismatched eyes. "Abraxas called you that?"
Intrigued, Harry nodded in reply.
"He shouldn't have," she said hotly, then letting out a sigh. "Well, I'm not even surprised. Mudblood means muggleborn, yes, but the word is meant as an insult, and no one polite would say it."
"But what does it mean?" bit out Tom sharply, his look impatient.
Felicity shot him a startled glance, due to his tone of voice, no doubt.
Though Tom was quick to mend his error, and he beamed a gorgeous, charming smile at the girl, as he intoned softly, "Please, if you'd be so kind to tell me…"
The girl gazed at him, looking a bit entranced, her cheeks prettily flushing. And Harry scowled at his brother. He saw Tom's lips curling upwards, smugly, at Harry's reaction.
At that, Harry smoothed his expression – he wasn't going to give Tom the satisfaction.
He knew well that Tom was merely charming the girl to pump out as much information as possible from her. Tom had always considered girls, and women in general, to be stupid, vapid, and bothersome creatures not worth his notice.
Furthermore, it wasn't as if Harry was interested in Felicity – not in that way, he decided. After his experiences with Amy Benson, girls seemed utterly incomprehensible to him, and too much trouble. It even made him shudder.
He had never felt attracted to one either, not like Eric Whelley and other boys, who were always attempting to peek down girls' shirts. Perhaps he was too young still, to feel those urges, he wondered.
Regardless, he simply thought that Felicity was pretty, and he liked her hair and eyes, and merely wanted to be her and Felix's friend, if possible.
"Muggleborn are those who have two muggle parents," said Felicity calmly. "It's the opposite of pureblood. Felix and I are that - our parents are magical, purebloods themselves, and there has never been a muggle in our bloodline."
"I see," muttered Tom quietly, to then gaze at her as he gently prodded further. "Abraxas Malfoy and his friends are also purebloods?"
"Yes," she replied, her jaw clenching. "But they're dark purebloods…"
And Tom went on, gently and subtly pressing her for more, and Harry's brain soon became stuffed with too much convoluted information, with concepts that were too new to immediately make sense to him, as Felicity and her brother traded turns to answer all of Tom's questions.
"… purebloods are all related to one another, however distantly," said Felicity at some point. "It's inevitable because blood purity is very important to us – it's a matter of ensuring that wizarding kind doesn't become extinct, you know? So none of us would marry a muggle. And many purebloods even take it further and would never marry a muggleborn or even a halfblood."
"Our great grandaunt was a Malfoy, for instance," supplied Felix, when Tom wanted to know the difference between dark and light purebloods. "So even though we Prewetts have always had light magic coursing through our veins, we also have a bit of dark magic in us."
Felicity nodded, as she added, "And the type of magical blood we carry defines the kind of spells we can cast, and what we feel more akin to. For instance, charms, hexes, and jinxes can be cast by everyone, because they're pretty basic and don't require any special kind of magic. But powerful light spells, like the Patronus Charm, for example, usually can only be cast by light wizards, or those who have some measure of light magic from their ancestors. And the same happens with dark curses – dark wizards master them more easily and quickly, because they were invented by someone of their kind and for their specific use. Most light wizards wouldn't attempt to learn dark curses or wouldn't even manage to, if they wanted."
"And muggleborns?" interjected Tom, looking vastly interested and as if it all made much sense to him.
"Their case is peculiar," replied Felix musingly. "They have no problem doing normal light and dark spells, but it's said that they have difficulty in mastering those that are more complex and require more magical power." He shrugged his shoulder, and then shot Tom a sympathetic look. "Sorry mate, but muggleborns, like yourself, are never very powerful."
Tom looked utterly impassive at that, and when Harry opened his mouth to rectify the misconception that they were indeed muggleborns –since he wasn't too sure about that- he then kept quiet when his brother shot him a sharp, warning glance. It befuddled Harry, but he let it slide.
"I understand," said Tom, shooting the Prewett boy a warm look. "Then, basically, the difference between light and dark spells depends on whether the spell was made to be cast by a light or dark wizard, given the case?"
"Yes, in essence," replied Felix, before he briefly hummed pensively. "Though regarding a spell as light or dark became more messy when the Ministry of Magic was created, several centuries ago. You see, throughout time, when the Ministry had a light wizard as the Minister, they labeled many spells, potions, and curses as 'dark' not because a wizard required to have plenty of dark magic in him to be able to cast the spell or produce the potion, but because the potion or spell was used to harm people…"
"And in the political quarrel between light and dark wizards," piped in Felicity, effortlessly continuing his twin's explanation as if they shared one same mind, "the light-oriented Ministry decided to label those spells and potions as 'dark', giving the word a negative connotation and thus scoring one against their political opposition..."
Felix nodded his head. "Due to that, nowadays there are many spells labeled as 'dark', and even banned by the Ministry, because they've claimed that they require the user to have 'evil' intentions. For some horrid dark curses it's true, granted, but not for the majority of them."
"The same happens with some charms and many spells regarded as 'light' and harmless," interjected Felicity matter-of-factly. "There are many of those, if one is creative, that could be used to hurt people or even kill them. But because they aren't commonly employed for that, but rather to heal or do useful and practical things like making something float, for example, then they were never banned."
"I don't get it," finally cut in Harry, feeling his head throbbing. "You say you're light purebloods, but you seem in favor of these dark spells, potions, and spells you speak of."
"Well, I would never delve into the Dark Arts myself!" sputtered Felicity, looking appalled. "If you're not a dark wizard and don't know what you're doing, they can be seriously harmful to you. Many curses were only made to be used by dark wizards and they can lash back at you if you're not." Then she shrugged, as she added calmly, "But if they aren't used to hurt people, I have nothing against them. They're part of the Wizarding World's legacy - magical knowledge that our ancestors have gifted us with. Thus, the Dark Arts should be preserved and respected, even by those who don't use them, like us."
Felix nodded in agreement. "Our family is liberal minded in respect to muggles and muggleborns. We don't despise muggles though we wouldn't marry one, and we don't think that muggleborns shouldn't be allowed into our world or be forbidden from learning at our schools. However, we take seriously the upholding of our traditions and knowledge. We think blood purity is important and that the Wizarding World should be kept hidden from muggles."
"Is that why you stopped being friends with Abraxas Malfoy?" interjected Tom, his gaze piercing and extremely interested. "Because his family isn't 'liberal' and he despises muggleborns?"
"Sort of," replied Felix tersely, looking unwilling to say more.
"That's not the full extent of it," said Felicity softly, garnering a sharp glance from her twin, which made her snap her head around and say crossly, "They have a right to know! They're muggleborns and it affects them directly, as I said before!"
"Father told us not to speak about it, Lissie," bit out Felix pointedly.
"We can trust them, I'm sure," she said in clipped tones. And with that, she turned around to gaze at Harry and Tom. "It began when Dumbledore-"
"Dumbledore?" Harry blinked at her. "Professor Dumbledore?"
"Oh, you know him?" Felicity beamed at him. "Isn't he wonderful!"
"Er – yes, I suppose," muttered Harry without much conviction, a bit taken aback as well, by the girl's gushing tone of voice. "He was the one who came to our orph-"
"To our house," interrupted Tom smoothly. "He gave us our Hogwarts letters and explained to us and our muggle parents a bit about the Wizarding World."
Harry threw him a glance at that, his eyebrows shooting upwards, now seriously wondering why his brother insisted in making the Prewetts believe that they were muggleborns, when they didn't have solid evidence one way or the other.
It couldn't be just as simple as Tom not wanting anyone to know they were orphans, not when it came at the cost of everyone believing they came from two muggles. Especially given how much Tom looked down at muggles now, ever since his perpetual conviction of being superior to everyone around him had been validated when he had learned the word 'muggle' and what it meant from Dumbledore.
Thus, it had to be due to some manipulative reason and dastardly plot of Tom's, Harry concluded.
"He's the Transfiguration teacher at Hogwarts, you know?" carried on Felicity in admiring tones. "And the Head of Gryffindor House and the Deputy Headmaster, but also so much more! He's a respected member of the Wizengamot and has done loads of wonderful things – like helping merfolk and the centaurs, and what he did for the Union of the Americas!"
She leaned towards them, and added in an excited whisper, "Many say he's one of the most powerful light wizards alive – and that he has all sorts of secret magical abilities! Most wizards wanted Dumbledore to become the Minister of Magic instead of Charlemagne McLaggen, you know? But Dumbledore gently refused – I'm sure it was because he's too much of a-"
"Gulping gargoyles, Lissie!" groused out Felix, looking thoroughly vexed. "No need to sing a sonnet about how marvelous, divine, and sublime you think he is! Our poor new friends don't need to know how much you adore the man. If you're going to tell them, then get on with it!"
"Fine," said Felicity shortly, looking disgruntled for a brief moment, before she glanced at Harry and Tom again. "The point is that Dumbledore started warning people about what was happening in Wizarding Europe - in the continent, that is. He warned people about Gellert Grindelwald."
At Harry and Tom's nonplussed expressions, she added quickly, "He's a dark wizard - he's the German Minister of Magic now." She let out an angered scoff. "That's what the man calls himself in public! But Father believes Dumbledore and so do I, and Dumbledore said that he's really a Dark Lord!"
"A what?" muttered Harry, befuddled.
"A Dark Lord is, usually, a wizard that self-proclaims himself as the leader of dark purebloods," replied Felix nonchalantly. "There have been several throughout history. They're always very powerful and are followed because of that, and because they usually uphold the most extreme of pureblood ideals – like getting rid of muggles and muggleborns. Most of them ended up doing terrible things."
He shot his sister a pointed glance, as he added, "Though there hasn't been one in ages and there's no proof that Grindelwald is one himself."
"So what do you think happened to Auntie Nettie, then?" snapped Felicity heatedly, glowering at her twin. "She just vanished from existence on her own accord, did she?"
Felix blanched at that, looking suddenly pale, and remained silent.
His sister scowled before she turned to face Harry and Tom again, her voice going very soft and quiet as she murmured, "Our Aunt Nettie was married to an Austrian wizard – he was an Auror, and they both lived in that country. The day that the news reached the English Ministry that the Austrians had 'agreed' to merge with the German Ministry of Magic, under Grindelwald's sole leadership, our Father knew something was not right. Father is the Head of the International Magical Cooperation Department in our Ministry, so he had inside information that implied that what had happened hadn't been at all peaceful, while the Daily Prophet and our own Minister were saying that no fighting had occurred in the Austrian Ministry and that no coercive force had been used by the German wizards."
She paused, taking a deep, steadying breath, before she continued, "So Father went to look for Aunt Nettie, in her home in Austria. He didn't find her or her husband, and when he went to the Austrian Ministry of Magic, he was told that Uncle had resigned from his job and that they didn't know where he was nor could be expected to know, since Uncle was no longer under their employment. Father never found either of them, and he discovered that many other Aurors and some other officials in the Austrian Ministry had also disappeared the day the Austrian wizards 'voluntarily' annexed themselves to the German Ministry of Magic."
Her jaw clenched as she gritted out through her teeth, "They were killed by Grindelwald – he killed those who opposed him and his followers when they took over the Austrian Ministry of Magic! Only the cowards remained unscathed. Dumbledore believes this and so does Father."
"Do you know if that happened the same day, or around the time, when the Nazis occupied Austria?" inquired Tom coolly, though there was something glinting in his eyes - Harry saw, and immediately discerned what it was.
His brother was giddy, exhilarated, and thrilled for some mysterious reason - it couldn't possibly be due to what Felicity had told them, Harry hoped, since it was quite awful.
"Nazis?" Felicity mumbled, looking confused. "Oh, those muggles!" She shook her head. "I don't know. We don't follow muggle news."
"It did happen the same day," interjected Felix, shooting Tom a curious glance, before he turned to his sister. "Father said so. And Dumbledore told Father that he believed Grindelwald was the mastermind behind it all, using German muggle troops to occupy the country at the same time that he sent his followers to raid the Austrian Ministry of Magic. We overheard them discussing it – remember?"
"Oh, you're absolutely right!" breathed out Felicity, her brown and blue eyes growing wide.
"Mastermind?" whispered Tom, his own eyes slightly widening as he fixedly stared at them with an odd expression on his face. The next moment, his eyes sparkled with triumph, as if their words validated some deep suspicions he had held for a long time.
Though he was quick to mask it the moment he saw Harry staring at him, frowning.
Tom cleared his throat, and intoned quietly, "And he's just one wizard, doing all these things? Is he very powerful, this Gellert Grindelwald? I suppose he knows all sorts of Dark Arts, as you call them, does he?"
"Um, yes," replied Felicity, blinking at him.
"I see," murmured Tom, the feverish, gleeful glint in his eyes not escaping Harry's notice.
Harry shook his head, deciding to ignore his brother's weird behavior, for the time being, and then glanced at the twins, a bit confused. "So you stopped being friends with Abraxas Malfoy and other dark pureblood children because of that? It couldn't have been their fault-"
"Of course it wasn't," said Felicity firmly, "but it was the last straw that broke the hippogriff's back."
At Harry's look of utter incomprehension, she elucidated further, "Our family had always been close with the Malfoys, the Blacks, and such, since the day when our ancestor married a Malfoy witch, centuries ago…"
"Those sorts of marriage matches," piped in Felix, "are to form alliances between families."
"Exactly," carried on Felicity, "so all was well between our families. But a couple of years back, when Dumbledore started saying that Grindelwald was dangerous, Father believed him and they became close friends. That started to cause problems between Father, Maximilian Malfoy and Pollux and Arcturus Black, because those wizards have always despised Dumbledore, and they didn't like that Father was getting all cozy with him…"
"And Father," added Felix coolly, "started suspecting that they knew about Grindelwald being a Dark Lord and that they were secretly supporting his cause by giving the wizard loads of galleons. Malfoy and the Blacks fiercely denied the accusation and they quarreled with our father…"
"And after that," continued Felicity, as she nodded at her twin, "he forbade us from going to their manors and playing with their children. And then Austria happened, and Aunt Nettie and Uncle disappeared, and Father began to openly support Dumbledore in the Wizengamot…"
"And Malfoy and the Blacks started calling Father a bloodtraitor for that," grumbled Felix angrily, "which further heated the quarrel between them."
"So now they hate Father," supplied Felicity shortly, "and he hates them back."
"Er…" said Harry, as the twins stared at him, apparently waiting for a reaction of some sort. "Um - it's understandable, I reckon."
They beamed at him, with such identical grins and expressions that Harry blinked.
"I'm still not convinced," said Felix then, as if wanting to explain himself to Harry, "that Grindelwald is a Dark Lord, but nevertheless I-"
"You're not 'convinced'," quipped Felicity, but her tone wasn't angry or chiding this time, but rather playfully taunting, "because you hope it isn't true – because the possibility scares you."
Felix shot her a shameless, toothy grin. "True. But my point is that I still support what Father did." He fiercely scowled. "Being accused of being a bloodtraitor is the worst insult for a pureblood. Father took it very hard. And it's unforgivable. The whole issue started a feud between us, Prewetts, and the Malfoys in particular, because Pollux and Arcturus Black follow old Maximilian Malfoy's lead…"
"And feuds between wizarding families," piped in Felicity, "are a very serious matter – they can last for centuries and many generations. So Old Malfoy also has the fault for starting something so grave."
Harry nodded, though he couldn't quite fully understand what it meant for them. Then, he shot a glance at his brother, who had been strangely quiet all that time.
He saw, though, that Tom appeared to be immersed in his own thoughts. And most disturbing of all, the boy was unseeingly staring at some point in the air, his lips curled into a smirk, as if whatever was swirling in his mind was giving him much satisfaction.
Harry eyed him suspiciously, but he was yanked away from his efforts, the very next second, when a voice suddenly called out from the corridor.
"Anything from the trolley, dears?"
The Prewett twins jumped to their feet at the same time, wide grins on their faces, as Harry glanced at them in bewilderment.
Felicity took notice of his expression, and she said quickly, "She sells all sorts of candies - they're magical! Don't you like sweets?"
"I do!" affirmed Harry immediately, his eyes wide with anticipation as he started to search for his leather pouch – for candies, he was very willing to spend the couple of galleons left in his leather pouch, there was no thinking twice about it.
"Don't bother," said Felix, waving a hand dismissively, "it will be our treat!" He shot his sister a toothy grin, as he added, "Won't it, dearest twin of mine?"
"Oh, yes, brother darling!" chirped Felicity, as she repeatedly nodded her head. "We'll buy bunches of all sorts and make him try them all." She beamed at Harry. "It will be your introduction to the magical world of wizarding candies! But you'll have to try them all without complaint, that's the deal!"
As soon as she said that, both Prewett twins shot him identical manic grins that made Harry shudder with wariness.
And thus, all conversation about Dark Lords, wars, deaths, and whatnot, were soon forgotten in lieu of the Prewett twins grinning and chortling and letting out peals of guffaws, every time Harry tried a different sweet.
The Pepper Imps made Harry belch out short puffs of fire, as steam gushed from his ears. When he chewed on Drooble's Best Blowing Gum, the compartment became filled with bluebell-colored bubbles that kept popping out of his mouth. The Fizzing Whizbess popped and crackled in his mouth, and made him levitate and placidly float a feet from his seat – they soon became his utmost favorite!
When he bit down on the exploding bon-bons, Harry opened his jaw wide so that the twins could see the tiny fireworks that were bursting in his mouth, making him all tingly and giddy. And when he munched down on a cockroach cluster, believing it was just made of chocolate, he had to splutter out the insect that he had suddenly felt moving inside his mouth, leaving him thoroughly disgusted and horrified.
Tom had taken the safest route and politely declined what the twins so cajolingly offered to him. Harry didn't think his brother did so merely because he disdained all sweets in general.
Finally, Harry managed to extricate himself from trying more bizarre sweets for the twins' entertainment, and chose the candy that looked the most innocent of all.
Indeed, he happily munched down two chocolate frogs, managing every time to swiftly grasp the frog in mid-air as it leaped and tried to make its bid for escape.
And even though, after having perused most of his Hogwarts books, he had become accustomed to seeing moving wizarding pictures and such, he was still thoroughly surprised by the chocolate frog cards, and then thrilled as he read them.
He soon shoved them into Tom's hands, as he said smugly, feeling utterly vindicated, "Not all of Alice's tales were rubbish! See? See?"
The first card had a moving picture of Malodora Grymm. A witch of the Middle Ages, who used a beautification potion to conceal her true ugly form, married a king, and used a charmed mirror to reinforce her self-image. Then became jealous of the most beautiful girl in the land and fed her a poisoned apple.
The second was of Leticia Somnolens. This spiteful hag of medieval times was jealous of the king's daughter, and caused her to prick her finger on a spindle tainted with a Draught of the Living Death. A young wizard, who had smeared his lips with Wiggenweld potion, kissed the princess and brought her back from her eternal sleep.
After Tom read them, though, the boy looked utterly unimpressed, and merely snidely scoffed as he flung them back at Harry.
Well, Harry knew that he couldn't have expected much else – Tom was too much of an arrogant git to admit that Harry had been right.
Nevertheless, Harry carefully pocketed the cards, treasuring them, because what they said were proof that the Magical World was indeed a land of fantasy, only that the 'fantasy' aspects were produced by potions, spells, charms and such. And Harry liked that even more, because it meant that if he learned how to do them, then he could fit in in that wondrous world were the unimaginable was possible, and thus feel he belonged.
Afterwards, their conversation inevitably turned to Hogwarts, but Harry didn't refuse to hear the Prewett twins telling them about the bits they knew.
It was impossible to not want to listen to the ginger-haired twins' cheerful conversation and good-natured bickering, so he found out about the Four Houses, the system of points, the Quidditch Cup, the hierarchy of Prefects and Head Boys and Girls, and the annual point competition for the House Cup.
"We still don't know," said Felicity, as she bit down on a sugar flobberworm by the middle, tearing half of it and starting to munch it down, "how the Sorting into the Houses happens."
"Our parents wouldn't tell us." Felix nodded, popping a cauldron pasty into his awaiting mouth.
"But we managed to glean that it's done by a magical artifact of some sort." Felicity's mismatched eyes grew big, as she gestured with the bit of the sugar flobberworm that was left, flailing its tail in mid-air. "Imagine that! I could be anything. And who knows what the thing does to us!"
"'Hogwarts: a History' doesn't say anything about the Sorting, either," groused out Tom, looking utterly annoyed that for once he wouldn't have information beforehand, and thus would be caught unawares and unprepared.
"Our cousin, Ignatius Prewett," said Felicity then, as she finally popped into her mouth the rest of the sugar flobberworm, "finished Hogwarts last year, and he was a Ravenclaw. And Mother says that I have a Raven's mind too." She scrunched up her small button-nose. "But I rather not end up there. They're too boring and stuffy, from what I've heard."
"Very true!" piped in Felix, nodding adamantly, to then shoot his twin a toothy grin. "But we have another cousin, Muriel, and she's a Gryffindor in seventh year. So our prospects are good."
"Oh, yes! It's the Gryffindors who have all the fun, apparently."
"So that's where we want to end up," they then chorused together, beaming a smile at each other.
"And you?" said Felicity, shooting Harry an interested glance. "In which House would you like to be?"
"Um - they all sound good to me, from what you've said about them," said Harry, then shrugging his shoulders. "I don't mind which is it, as long as it's the same as Tom's."
At that, Tom shot him an utterly pleased, satisfied smirk. Though Harry didn't see how his brother hadn't already known how he felt about it. Really, now that they weren't in the orphanage, he considered that 'home' was his brother. And he could think of anything worse than spending the next seven years separated from his twin, in different Houses. If there was something he could do about it, he would make sure they stayed together.
"I completely understand you," said Felix, nodding in sympathy and agreement. "I couldn't bear it if I wasn't with Lissie."
"Nor I without Felix," breathed out Felicity, her expression aghast as if simply considering the possibility was too horrid to be borne.
"And you, Tom?" piped in Felix, shooting the boy a scrutinizing glance.
"Slytherin House, of course," said Tom coolly, arching an eyebrow, his conviction as solid and hard as rocks. "It's the only worthy one, from what I've read."
At that, Harry snapped his head around to shoot him a miffed, indignant glare.
"The House of the cunning and ambitious," quipped Felix, quizzically gazing at Tom, to then grin toothily. "Yep, I can easily see you there."
"Um... I don't know about that," interjected Felicity hesitantly, eyeing Tom closely. "I've never heard of a muggleborn being sorted into Slytherin. If you are, it won't be easy for you. The purebloods will make your life a nightmare, no doubt."
Tom imperiously waved a hand dismissively, his expression one of absolute arrogance and self-confidence, as he intoned nonchalantly, "I can manage, I'm sure."
"And what?" snapped Harry, scowling at him. "I'll have to 'manage' too? You want me to end up there with you? It doesn't sound all that nice, given what Felicity has just said-"
"It's you who wants to end up there," interjected Tom impassively, arching an eyebrow at him. "Where I go, you go - that's what you said, basically."
"Oh, I see," bit out Harry hotly. "But I wasn't expecting that you'd decide which House you wanted and then expected me to follow like an obedient pet. I expected you to say that you also wanted to be wherever I was…"
The Prewett twins gazed at them in fascination, their mismatched eyes snapping from one to the other. Evidently, they enjoyed Tom and Harry's bickering as much as Harry had felt amused by theirs.
However, the Riddles' kind of 'bickering' was much different from the Prewetts'; certainly, it was tempestuous most of times and could turn dangerous and even vicious, given the boys' clashing personalities – Harry's stubbornness and short-temper and Tom's arrogance and high-handedness, in particular.
"It doesn't matter," finally interrupted Felicity in mollifying tones, "which House you'd like to choose. It's the magical artifact that will choose for you, that much we know. There's no point arguing about it."
Harry snapped his mouth shut at that, and merely huffed, shooting his brother one last scowl, just to let Tom know that -even though what the girl said was apparently true- he still resented him for being such a selfish prat.
Gratefully, any further arguments were forestalled when they heard a Prefect going down the corridor, announcing that they would soon be reaching Hogwarts' station.
The three boys immediately pulled their school robes from their trunks and then took turns in the carriage's toilet stall, to change their clothes, while they left the use of their compartment to Felicity.
In no time at all, they were all towing their trunks and cages out of the train.